Vignettes of Jet
by Alabaster86
Summary: Scenes/drabbles from Jet's life pre and post gaang.
1. Chapter 1

**The Forest is Better**

Jet didn't like towns. He preferred to be in the forest, up in the trees, high above everyone and everything, safe. Bad things happened in towns. Fire Nation soldiers could march through at any time. You could be eating dinner or playing with your friends or helping your parents. The Fire Nation didn't care. _Their _people swept over the Earth Kingdom people like they were ants, miniscule and insignificant, just a pesky nuisance that needed exterminating. One day you had a family. The next day you were alone, orphaned, just eight years old and nowhere to go, no one to turn to.

So, you turned inward and learned to survive. Wandering aimlessly, you stole, you raided, you foraged, anything to get food. The forest was a good hiding place; it protected you, enveloped you, so you stayed. Along the way you met others like yourself, other victims of Fire Nation atrocities. You banded together and became a family. Hate was the glue that held you together. Hate burned in all your hearts_._

**Naming **

"What about the Freedom Fighters?" Jet asked the group of about twenty people, mostly kids like himself, some much younger. "That's a good name."

Smellerbee looked over at Longshot, a tall lean archer who never spoke.

"We like it," she declared in her raspy voice.

The young girl, about thirteen, adjusted the wide blue band that wrapped around her forehead. The armor that covered her chest was uncomfortable and she twisted, trying to adjust it. Everything they had was stolen or found discarded somewhere and most things fit poorly. They were a strange group, a hodgepodge of children and teenagers, some with newly learned skills, others with brute strength and still others with nothing but enthusiasm and a desire to hurt the Fire Nation.

"Does anyone object?" Jet cried out.

He was fourteen now, and the leader of the group. He, Longshot and Smellerbee had been together for a few years already, but the rest of them were recent acquisitions. Every group deserves a name, and that was what they were deciding on now.

"Sounds good, Jet," someone called out.

"If you like it, Jet, we do too," someone else cried.

"To the Freedom Fighters," Jet called out, arms outspread as if offering benediction. "Let's celebrate our new name."

The group ate and drank, talking loudly and sharing stories, mostly of triumphs over Fire Nation troops. As he took another swig from his water skin, Jet looked upward. They sat beneath a canopy of huge, old trees, wide branches covered with red leaves and stretching outward to meet those of their neighbors. Birds twittered and monkey like creatures leaped from branch to branch, using their long tails to swing up and down. An idea came to Jet; why not build a series of tree houses, joined with bridges, a pulley system to carry things upward, crude stairs nailed to the trees? He could see it all in his head and he grinned.

"We're staying here," he declared.

Jet reached for a long stalk of grass, broke it off, and put the end between his lips, chewing thoughtfully.

"See those trees up there," he continued. "That's where we'll live. All we need is some wood and some nails. We'll make a series of tree houses, one for each of us if we want. No one will even know we're here. It's perfect."

"But there are Fire Nation troops in the village by the dam," a giant of a man named Pipsqueak said.

"Perfect," Jet purred. "We'll make their lives hell and they won't know what hit them."

"Oh," Pipsqueak replied, Jet's plan dawning on him. "I get it."

"Yep, we're going to mess with them any way we can. Any Fire Nation filth that comes through our forest will regret it," Jet said calmly.

There was a cold undertone to his voice, though, a steely resolve to make the Fire Nation suffer.

**Dreams**

Jet's dreams were pleasant at first. He smiled as his mind conjured images of a finished fortress in the trees. The kids were happy. There was laughter. He sat back and watched them all, signature grass in his mouth, lithe body sprawled out casually. Then there was fire. It started small, like a cooking fire then morphed into a bonfire. Finally, it engulfed the entire network of tree houses and the forest too. Ashes and bits of bone were all that remained. And Jet. He was the only one left standing, the one witness to the devastation. He forced himself to wake, mustering all the strength he had. Breathing harshly, Jet opened his eyes and took in the sleeping forms surrounding him, bodies curled up and buried in the leaves. He wished that he didn't need sleep. It hurt too much, being the only one left.

**Origin of Hate**

Sometimes, he would see the faces of the men who burned down his village six years earlier. He recalled them all vividly. Jet hoped that he would see them again one day. He would spill their blood, gouge open their throats with his hook swords, feel the warm liquid spill down his hands and spray his face. That would be a good day.

**Home**

The system of tree houses took months to build, countless scavenging expeditions, theft, a lot of planning and a lot of hard work. Jet called it a work in progress even when it was deemed finished. New people could always join their gang, after all. He got the largest 'room'. He didn't demand it; it was just his and everyone knew.

Just like everyone acknowledged him as the leader without saying so. He had natural gifts of persuasion and charm that people gravitated to. They wanted to please him.

Now his dreams wouldn't disturb any of the others. He had his own private space with his own 'bed'. He could writhe and moan and no one would hear, except perhaps Longshot or Smellerbee. They were attuned to his every mood and his every emotion. It seemed like they could sense his despair and his elation from far away. They knew him better than anyone ever had since his mother and father died. It was glorious and it was frightening. He didn't like feeling that exposed. He liked control, an easy going type of control, but control nevertheless.

**Thug**

Jet stood silently up in the trees, feet just touching the thick branch as he looked down onto the path that led through the forest. One hand rested on a smaller branch while the other hovered near one of his swords. He had been there for an hour already. Patience was something that he had developed over his years of surviving alone. You had to wait for an opening or a distraction before you could take what you needed. He had spent many a day just waiting and watching. Storming in looking for a fight was rarely wise although sometimes the urge to do so was hard to resist.

His sharp ears heard the sound of footsteps. Jet saw red; a Fire Nation man carrying a large pack sauntered along the path as if he owned it. The middle aged man was far too comfortable. He felt far too safe. This forest wasn't his and never would be, not if Jet had a say in it. It was time to shake the enemy's complacency.

Jet jumped down gracefully and landed on the leaf covered path directly in front of the man. He was startled and gave Jet a questioning look.

"What's in the pack, scum?" the Freedom Fighter demanded.

"N, nothing important….just some household items that I want to trade."

"Really," Jet smirked, leaning in close to the man, so close that he could feel the rush of air from his now open mouth.

"Y, yes," the man stammered, clearly in a panic now.

Jet brandished his swords and sliced the straps that held the man's pack onto his back. It fell to the earth with a soft thump.

"Open it up!" Jet demanded.

His voice was subdued but icy and sharp. The man's hands trembled as he struggled with the tie. Jet took the open pack and dumped the contents onto the ground, some of the items breaking with a soft tinkle and other things bouncing away down the path.

"I could use some new dishes," Jet remarked, picking up some sturdy bowls. "And these clothes will come in handy. Got any money?"

Without hesitating, the man reached for a small pouch that was hidden inside his robes.

"Here, it's all I have. Just let me go!"

Jet thought seriously about killing the man but reason told him a trail of corpses would only bring the Fire Nation down on him all the harder. He settled for a kick that sent the Fire Nation citizen reeling, hands clutching his middle.

"I'd think twice before coming through here again. And if you mention me to anyone, I will find out and I will kill you. Understand?"

The man nodded. Tear stood out in his brown eyes. Without retrieving his pack, the man stumbled his way back down the path to the village he had started from.

Jet wore a satisfied smile on his handsome face. He tossed aside the grass stalk he'd been chewing on and began to whistle.

* * *

_A/N: I'm not sure where this thing is going, but I felt compelled to write some Jet, which is a change for me. He is a fascinating character in his own right and there is a wealth of possible stories and/or drabbles that he inspires._


	2. Chapter 2

**Vignettes of Jet #2**

He had a way with people, female ones especially. It was no wonder that Katara did what he asked without hesitation. It was no wonder she reddened any time he came near. Jet was insidious. His easy charm, that way of talking he had, like every conversation was so natural, the way he could gently twist facts or boldly lie and you couldn't see how he was manipulating you, were like intoxicants. People clambered to get close. If Jet spoke to you, looking directly into your eyes, acknowledging your existence, you felt blessed.

* * *

Jet never questioned what he did. The Fire Nation was bad. The Fire Nation was wrong. Fire Nation people should be punished for their misdeeds. He didn't understand what Sokka's problem was. The old man was Fire Nation. He wore those red and burgundy clothes, flaunting them like this country was his, like it didn't belong to the Earth Kingdom people.

Showing compassion sent the wrong message. If he let one go, where would it end? They all needed to pay, if not with their lives, at least with some good old fashioned terror.

* * *

The blasting jelly that he and his Freedom Fighters confiscated from the Fire Nation's small encampment was like a gift from the gods. If he actually believed in that sort of thing, he would assume that those unseen beings, pulling the strings of humanity like so many puppets, wanted him to blow up the dam. Somehow Jet felt even more certain about this particular mission now. His conviction infected his trusted friends, those friends who would lay down their lives for him without question.

None of the other Freedom Fighters asked about the Earth Kingdom villagers. They would die nameless and faceless sacrifices, necessary in this war they waged. And that was acceptable. It was acceptable because the Fire Nation soldiers would die too.

An empty village and a flood of green clad corpses rushing down the river was preferable to one Fire Nation citizen left alive in the valley; their valley, their forest.

* * *

Jet was confused. He looked into Katara's ocean blue eyes and saw the hurt and betrayal there, and the anger. Her anger was frightening and her bending was frightening too. She froze him to a tree and turned away, not wanting to even look upon him anymore. And she had_ liked_ him. She had hung on his every charmed word.

Katara wasn't prepared to do everything necessary to win the war. That was it. She must be weak, along with her brother and the avatar too. They didn't understand. They would never understand. People like them would make the war go on forever. Jet was willing to lay waste to the entire continent if it meant eliminating the Fire Nation from his land.

Then why did those blue eyes bother him? Why did he want to make things better?


	3. Chapter 3

**Aftermath**

Everything was different after the incident with the dam and the avatar and the avatar's friends. The Freedom Fighters slowly drifted apart and their home up in the trees became emptier as each day passed.

In the end, only Longshot and Smellerbee, Jet's original and most faithful friends stuck with him. He fell into a melancholic state, doing little, saying even less and rarely leaving his roost high above the forest floor.

Jet saw the worry and pity in his friends' eyes. It made him angry and sometimes he wished that they would leave too, so he could be alone in the trees and just stay there until everything ended one way or another.

He was tired; tired of wondering why the group abandoned him, tired of going over the events in his mind, tired of seeing Katara's eyes and Sokka's disdain and Aang's disgust. He was so tired.

* * *

Finally, after weeks of thought and contemplation, Jet (who still did not believe that the motivation behind his actions were wrong…but conceded that his methods were too extreme), Longshot and Smellerbee left their home of more than two years. The sixteen year old fighter took one last look up at the twisting jumble of small rooms, rickety bridges and open platforms, hung his swords from his belt and began to walk down the leaf carpeted pathway that ran through the forest.

They walked around the village, rebuilding now, rather than through it, and didn't stop until nightfall. Jet had no particular destination in mind and Smellerbee and Longshot just followed his lead. When the forest petered out, they walked along dusty roadways or narrow paths, meeting up with many refugees, all heading to Ba Sing Se.

"Maybe we should go there too," Smellerbee suggested. "We could start all over again, get jobs and have a new life."

Longshot's expressive face looked thoughtful for a moment and then his brown eyes lit up. He nodded at Smellerbee and Jet.

"I understand," Jet said to the archer. "We've got a long journey ahead of us. We'll continue tomorrow."

They made camp for the night, lighting a fire and eating some leftover food. Exhausted, they dropped down on to the sparse grass and fell asleep immediately.

* * *

As each day passed, Jet became more and more excited about the prospect of living in Ba Sing Se. It wasn't the city itself that appealed to him. The thought of teeming masses of people living together in one place actually intimidated him. He was so accustomed to the quiet forest. Birdsong and wind in the trees were his lullabies, not shouting people or screaming brats or banging doors.

But the chance to work and make money and maybe finally put his past behind him was appealing. If he listened to the rumors about the famed city, everyone who lived there was well fed and well clothed and happy. He could get rid of the mish mash of clothing he wore, a combination of Fire Nation and Water Tribe castoffs and maybe wear some real robes for once; or maybe not. Jet was attached to every little piece of armor he wore and he was so used to seeing Longshot and Smellerbee in their clothes, that a change would probably shock him dead. No, he would settle for work, good food and a place to stay.

When Full Moon Ferry Landing finally came into view weeks later, Jet turned to his two friends and gave them a confident grin.

"Soon," he said. "Everything's going to change for us. I'm sure of it."


	4. Chapter 4

**Fateful Meeting**

The ferry is crowded. Desperate Earth Kingdom refuges, homeless, without work, carrying whatever possessions had remained in their burnt out homes or confiscated businesses inside ragged sacs or bundles, huddled in groups, some leaning against the rail, some sitting on the deck, stuffed into corners or sprawled out haphazardly.

Jet had never seen such a wide array of people. Skin colors ranged from very pale to slightly tan to a deeper brown such as Jet's own. The clothing was every conceivable shade of green and brown; from the tattered tunics and bare feet of farmers to the well made robes of the middle class, merchants probably or academics of some kind. For once, Jet, Smellerbee and Longshot fit right in. Their bizarre combinations of clothing and armor from three nations didn't even warrant a glance.

These were exhausted people. Most had walked for weeks to get to the ferry. And all their hopes, the very last scraps of their dreams, were pinned on the massive walled city in the distance, the impenetrable Ba Sing Se, last hold out against the ruthless Fire Nation.

Despite the fatigue and brokenness of the people, there was a faint sense of excitement and possibility. Jet felt it too and a cocky grin widened his handsome features. He chewed on a stalk pulled from the last patch of wild grass outside the ferry landing. He and his two companions found their own corner, never letting go of their few possessions, and sat for a while.

A meager meal of watery soup, tasting faintly of cabbage, and with the odd piece of stringy meat, was ladled out for those who were hungry enough to try it. Jet knew that the captain and his guards were very well fed. He had walked around the ferry more than once, skulking in darkened corners and listening, something he was very skilled at. Guards dropped information casually, without thinking.

He, for one, was tired of living off scraps and debris, eating whatever he could get his hands on. Jet wanted a good meal for once, and he would have it, one way or another. He couldn't be the only dissatisfied passenger aboard. Smellerbee and Longshot were all for stealing some of the captain's food once darkness fell. Help would be nice.

Jet looked around at the people. His sharp brown eyes eventually fell on a potential ally. The young man, probably Jet's age, complained loudly about the food and about being a refugee in general. Jet sidled closer, listening and watching. This boy had short dark hair and a livid scar on the left side of his face. It stood out dramatically against his very pale skin. Scars and wounds were nothing new to Jet, but this mark was exceptionally bad. The poor guy must have had a nasty encounter with a firebender. He could relate to that and moved even closer, a smirk on his face.

When he finally spoke, the boy and his companion, a fat older man with a silly hat, turned to look. The man's face was open and friendly. The boy glanced quickly at him and then turned away, looking out at the water again. He radiated rage and tension and utter discomfort, and something else, something that Jet couldn't quite place. He knew how to fight, though. That Jet knew for sure. His posture and stance gave him away.

Jet was glad when the young man decided to help them free the captain of some of his excesses. The leader wanted to learn more about him, get to know him better and maybe recruit the scarred boy. Perhaps the Freedom Fighters could once again be something special, something more than merely a faint reflection of their former glory.

_A/N: I'm splitting Jet's encounters with Zuko into a few different parts._ _It's not like you don't know waht happens. :)_


	5. Chapter 5

**Vignettes of Jet #5**

Mistaken Identity

Jet's appraisal of Zuko had been correct; the guy was skilled with his swords, even if he only used them for stacking bowls rather than for fighting. The scarred young man was stealthy too, a perfect Freedom Fighter, if only Jet could convince him to join.

Jet had been surprised when he took the lead, starting up the stairs to the ship's pantry rather than waiting for him to go first. But he nodded his head in approval. A little confidence wouldn't go amiss either. The young man stopped there, though, leaving Jet to distribute the food among the hungry passengers. Dealing with people, it seemed, was not one of the guy's strong points.

Smellerbee and Longshot sat with their new acquaintances and enjoyed the meal. The head Freedom Fighter observed casually from a distance, arms crossed and leaning against a post. For half of his life now, watching had become as important as action. He could read slight changes in facial expressions and almost imperceptible shifts of the body.

This kid, this age-mate, was closed off and rigid, wound up tighter than anyone Jet had ever seen. He wanted to see him let loose and free himself. Jet could help. He had taken in traumatized kid after traumatized kid, all of them turned in on themselves, all of them radiating pain, no matter how hard they tried to hide it. And somehow, they all emerged, ready to take part in life fully again.

Finally joining the old man and his charge, Jet sat down on one of the green mats provided for each passenger, and looked across at them. He explained his desire to start over in Ba Sing Se. The old man was like him apparently; leaving behind one life for another, leaving behind one person and trying to become a better one. And that look he and the scarred young man shared when second chances came up; it said a lot. These were not your average refugees. There was some secret there, a secret that Jet longed to know.

The next morning, after an uncomfortable night's sleep spent amongst the sounds of snores and cries and the thrashings of other people's nightmares, Jet saw the boy standing alone on the ferry's prow, watching the land approach. Jet spoke of their kinship. They were both outcasts after all. The scar said everything. When he replied that being on one's own was not always a good thing, a tiny kernel of hope appeared inside Jet. Perhaps in time, he _would_ get to know this boy.

He lost sight of the pair as the ship docked but saw them again near the ticket gate, trying to convince a customs official to let them through and onto the train that would take them past the outer and inner walls and finally into the city itself. Jet watched them walk through and into the train station. Once again, he tried to convince Smellerbee and Longshot that the boy would make a great Freedom Fighter. He was just trying to find a place in the world, much as they were.

After making it through customs, Jet sought the scarred youth out. He was sitting beside the old man waiting for the train to arrive. His arms were crossed and he looked about as forthcoming as ever. Still, Jet approached and sat down beside the boy, prodding him about his plans.

A tea peddler walked by, shouting about the greatness of his product. The old man ordered a cup, practically salivating, and then complained that the tea was cold. Jet wanted to talk alone and got up from the seat, gesturing for Zuko to follow.

Despite his pitch, the youth refused to join the Freedom Fighters. Jet was a bit surprised by the boy's attitude. He seemed convinced that Jet and his friends wouldn't want him. Strange; they had made such a good team. He couldn't force the guy so shrugged and let it go.

Jet took one last look at them, noting how the old man now drank a furiously steaming cup of tea. Didn't he just bemoan its lack of heat? How could it be steaming now? Jet's brown eyes widened in shock and his face was pinched with suspicion. They were firebenders! What other good explanation could there be?

Not even Ba Sing Se was immune. Would there ever come a time when he was free of their plague? He had to know for sure and then make them pay.


	6. Chapter 6

**Jet**

Obsession

"Damn it, Jet, why are you still here?" Smellerbee asked in an exasperated tone as she fiddled with the knife at her belt.

"I'm watching them, waiting for proof," the lanky tan skinned boy replied, backing further into the shadows of the stinking alleyway.

"Please, Jet, just come with us. We need to find jobs and a place to stay. You're wasting your time and all because you saw the old man drinking hot tea."

"_He _made it hot," Jet hissed. "I know they're firebenders. I just have to catch them at it."

"So you do, then what?" Smellerbee rasped. Her big eyes were narrowed with anger. "Are you going to attack them? Are you going to kill them?"

"No, I'll call the authorities. I promise. They can take care of it. But, I want them caught and I want them put away."

Smellerbee looked to their silent friend, Longshot, who looked back, his eyes showing all the fear and apprehension he felt. The girl warrior felt an odd tingling sensation along her spine. This situation would not end well.

"Come on guys," Jet continued in an upbeat tone, crooked smile lighting up his handsome features. "Once I get this taken care of, we'll have a great life….no more crime; A new beginning just like we talked about."

"Whatever, Jet," Smellerbee replied. "Let's go, Longshot."

* * *

Jet didn't move from the vicinity of the teashop. He kept sharp eyes on both the boy and the old man, looking for, waiting for, any indication that they were firebenders. They didn't reveal themselves but that didn't mean the pair was innocent. Jet knew what he saw back at that train station. And he knew what it meant. Patience, it seemed, would get him nowhere with these two. It was time for action. Once he blew the whistle on them, everyone would rally around him. They would see what he saw. And the Fire Nation scum would get what they deserved.

Jet burst into the teashop, and announced to everyone that the old man and his charge were firebenders. Drawing his hook swords, he stood ready to attack. They had the nerve to look surprised, all of them. No one helped. No one believed a word he said. Jet felt what little control he had left slip away and he attacked, hoping to force them to firebend in self defense.

The scarred one took up his challenge, grabbing twin swords from a customer (an officer of some kind). He looked angry and his skill far surpassed what even Jet had thought it might be while still on the ferry. The youth parried every swing, every swipe, moving with the grace and swiftness of a pantherhawk. And _he_, Jet, looked like the bad one; he was on his own. That was okay. He had lots of experience taking care of business without help.

The fight moved outside, along with all the tea drinkers, the old man wringing his hands like an anxious woman and insisting that Jet was mistaken. The Freedom Fighter taunted the young swordsmen, hoping beyond hope that either he or the old one would make fire. It didn't work and then everything fell apart.

Two men, dressed in dark green robes, officials of some kind, ordered them to drop their weapons.

"Good," Jet thought to himself. "Maybe they'll believe me."

"Those two are firebenders," he shouted, pointing at the two men wearing aprons and doing their best to look innocent.

The old man protested as he would, of course. Jet was sure tales of what happened to captured firebenders had reached the ears of even them. They would do anything to stay free; lying being the least. But, the tea shop owner stood up for them. He accused Jet of wrecking his shop and attacking his employees. True enough, he had, but couldn't they see why? What was wrong with all these people? The officer backed the tea shop owner up and then Jet knew he couldn't win.

They were blind, all of them, and they would be sorry. The officials approached him and he thrust out his sword. He would not be taken easily. But one official grabbed the sharp metal hook, his hand protected by a glove of stone. What kind of earthbenders were they? They took away his weapons and ordered his hands behind his back, using stone manacles to keep them in place.

Pushed into a prison wagon, he tried once again, desperate this time, fear eating away at him. Looking straight into the young one's gold eyes, he cried, "But they're firebenders. You **have** to believe me."

No one listened. Jet was just a disturbed kid, someone who needed help, someone who needed some time away. The wagon door slammed shut and Jet watched _them _until they were long out of sight.

* * *

"This city isn't safe. It's insane," Jet thought as the Dai Li agents (that's what they called themselves) took him below ground, far below where it was eerie and strange and green light, like he imagined faerie light to be when he was a small child, made only a dent in the darkness.

They dragged him to a room and bound him to a chair with their weird little rocks. He was terrified now and shouted again, insisting that the old man and the boy were firebenders, intent on ruling the world, just like all of them were.

He twisted in the chair, trying to free himself and rocks were molded to his forehead, keeping him still. Jet's heart raced now and sweat ran down his face. He looked around at the agents before him. They were all calm and used soothing voices, "like I was a hurt animal," Jet mused.

There was some sort of circular metal track with a lamp on it. Jet watched as the orange light moved along the track, passing in front of his face. He tried to look away, but the motion was mesmerizing. The Dai Li intoned, a deep sound that reached into Jet's mind and found purchase. He couldn't close his eyes despite his best efforts.

"There is no war in Ba Sing Se."

"What," he stuttered. "Of course there's a war. What are you talking about?"

"Here we are free."

The light passed once more in front of Jet's face and he was lost.


End file.
